Desperate for Nothing
by loveadubdub
Summary: "I shouldn't have kissed you."  She doesn't look up because she's embarrassed and because it's uncomfortable.  "Probably not," he agrees.  "But if I had a dollar for every girl I shouldn't have kissed, I'd like be Bill Gates or something."


**DESPERATE FOR NOTHING**

… … …

Show face.

Show face, show face, show face.

Rachel repeats the sentiment to herself over and over as she packs up her things and prepares to leave the music room for the last time before Christmas break. She's not the only one left. Most people, it seems, are sticking around longer than usual, taking more time than necessary to get their bags and say their goodbyes. It's silly, of course, because it's two weeks. Two weeks, and they'll be right back here doing the exact same thing. During those two weeks, they'll all see each other, possibly numerous times. Besides a handful of people, they're all dating each other anyway. She's one of that handful.

For the first time in nearly a year, she doesn't have a boyfriend. More specifically, she doesn't have a boyfriend in _glee. _So now she's officially all by herself.

She makes it to the door, and no one really seems to notice. Artie drops a half-hearted, "Bye," over his shoulder as he listens to Brittany tell some story that probably involves the tooth fairy or a talking unicorn. Certainly, no one jumps up to hug her and act sad at the prospect of not seeing her until after the new year. She doesn't care. Or at least she tells herself not to care.

_Show face._

Finn's already gone. He must have been the first one out, and when she gets to the parking lot, his car is nowhere in sight. She's glad in a way. If she doesn't see him, she'll be less tempted to make a fool of herself and beg for forgiveness. As if she hasn't done enough already. She's reached new lows of desperation- even for her. It's pathetic. _She's _pathetic.

She knows that won't change.

It's cold outside, and she hates it. She's ready for spring, and there are still a few days before it's even officially winter. The fact that she wants spring so badly only tells her that it's going to be a miserable and _long _winter. That's how her life works. Perhaps she should wish for loneliness and unhappiness. Then she might get something decent.

No one is home when she gets there. Her fathers are still working, and they both tend to work later at the end of the week. She's not sure if she's happy or bothered to be alone. In a way, it's fitting in a film noir kind of way. She's tried being good her whole life, but then one mistake ruins her. She's alone. In every sense of the word. It's hardly fair, but she rarely expects differently.

She goes to temple alone. Her dads both send texts saying they'll be home late, and she's beginning to suspect that they're together and just don't want to include her. Normally, she wouldn't mind, but the thought seems cruel today. She's not sure why she decides to go to temple actually, but she'll chalk it up to being bored and needing some outlet to prove that life isn't really as terrible as it seems. She's not sure she believes that, but she's grasping at hypothetical straws in factual desperation.

The old ladies at temple love her. They always have, and she knows it's because she's generally much more respectful than a lot of people her age. She's always been well-behaved, even as a small child. And these ladies all feel the need to mother her on some level. So she's not surprised when they all start fawning over her and telling her how pretty she looks. She knows it's a lie, of course, because she sees herself in the mirror every day. She knows that she's too short, that her nose is too big, that her clothes are too far removed from WMHS Cheerios uniforms. She knows what the world's definition of _pretty _is, and she knows that she does not fit it. Still, though, she knows she's _the catch _at temple for everyone's sons and grandsons aged 14 to 24. She's always found it ironic, really, that the only ones actually her age would rather either stalk her and sexually harass her on a daily basis or throw slushies at her face.

She sits through the service and listens carefully to everything Rabbi Greenburg says. She wonders if she should set up an appointment to talk to him. She feels like she's losing faith in _everything _these days, and since her biweekly therapy sessions don't seem to be making any difference, maybe she needs some religious guidance. Of course, she doesn't know if telling her very own real life version of sex, lies, and rock and roll to the rabbi is such a good idea. Instead, she prays. She asks for forgiveness and love and to not be lonely. She asks for friends, but she knows better than to ask for much more.

She's ready to leave as soon as the service is over. She doesn't feel up to much socializing, and even though this is the one place where people are generally _nice _to her, she just isn't up for it. What she doesn't expect, though, is to bump into Noah Puckerman as she attempts to leave through the double doors at the back. She doesn't literally _bump _into him, she just passes him on her way to the exit, and they make eye contact and obviously can't just ignore each other. She doesn't know why he's here. He _never _comes to temple, and on the very rare occasions where he makes appearances, he's being dragged unwillingly by his mom or grandma. Rachel wonders which one of them is responsible for tonight's appearance, but she doesn't see either of them.

"Hey." He sounds either bored or uncomfortable or possibly both. He's also trying to make a break for it before they get pulled into the inevitable food gathering that always takes place after the service. Since they're both headed for the same door, she can't really avoid him.

"Have you been here the whole time?" she asks, waiting for half a second so that he can catch up, and they can slip out together. "I didn't see you."

"I was in the back."

"You're here by yourself?" She looks over her shoulder, still waiting for his mom or grandmother to show up and drag him back. She doesn't see either of them. She doesn't even see his little sister.

He just shrugs. Like that's an appropriate answer.

Rachel's not surprised that he doesn't hold the door open for her. He goes through first and leaves the door for her to catch. It bugs her, but she thinks it might bug her more if he started being suddenly nice and chivalrous toward her.

"I haven't seen you here in forever." She makes the comment passingly as she tries to ignore the chilling wind that immediately assaults them.

"I've been here for like a month. _You _haven't," he corrects her.

She turns her head and looks at him, wondering if he's telling the truth. The second part is true at least. She hasn't been in weeks because she's either been too busy with Finn or too busy trying to get him back.

"Well, maybe not a month. Like a couple of weeks."

She tries to hide her smile. "That's nice, though," she says seriously. "I'm sure your mother appreciates it."

He rolls his eyes, and she's not shocked. "I told you I was serious about praying and shit. I wasn't lying."

Only Puck would put the words praying and shit together in the same sentence in a synagogue parking lot and not worry about being struck down. Apparently being stuck in that porta-potty really _did _do a surprising work on him. Rachel wonders how long it'll last.

"You going home now or what?" He stops by her car, and she sets her purse on the hood to dig for her keys.

She nods, wondering why the hell she has _so _much in her purse. It makes it nearly impossible to find anything.

"Cool." He seems uninterested. "See you later."

"Where are you going?" She has no idea why she asks it, and she really honestly doesn't even _care _where he's going. She's been doing her best to ignore his existence for the past three weeks, so she doesn't know why she's making small talk with him right now.

"I dunno. Home, I guess."

"Oh, I thought you'd be going to a party or something. Since it's the last day of school and everything."

He shrugs again. "I'm sure there's something going on. Whatever."

She doesn't know what that means, which is not surprising, of course, because she often has no idea what he's talking about or what point he's trying to make. She finds her keys finally and unlocks her door, anxious to get in and get warm.

"You wanna get something to eat? I mean, if you gotta get home or whatever, it's-"

"Okay."

And again, she doesn't know why her mouth is saying what it's saying. She isn't sure that she should be going anywhere with him, even if it's _clearly _not a date or anything close. She doesn't even know why he's _asking _her to go anywhere. It's Friday night. The chances of them being seen together are high, and she can't imagine that he'd want to take that chance.

"Let's just like go to Raymond's or something."

Raymond's is a tiny hole-in-the-wall deli that's only _ever _busy on Sunday afternoons for the post-church crowd. No one their age goes willingly, and Rachel's positive that the only reason he's suggesting it now is because he's sure no one they know will be there and think he's taking her out or something equally as ludicrous. Still, she agrees, wondering when her self-confidence got shot so low that she's willing to be hidden like some dirty little secret or something.

She follows him to the restaurant, and he doesn't wait for her to get out of her car before he's making his way toward the door and letting himself in. Rachel follows and isn't surprised to see that only one table is occupied. They stop at the counter and order their sandwiches- _separately, _he makes no move or offer to pay for hers. She's glad because she thinks she'd be extremely uncomfortable if he _did. _And then they take a booth against the back wall and wait for their names to be called.

It's instantly awkward.

Rachel has no delusions when it comes to Puck or exactly the type of person he is. What she _does _have confusion about, though, is why he so often does things totally out of character that make her question everything she's positive she knows about him. He's a jerk, and he's never liked her. He was mean to her even when they were kids. The only times growing up that he was ever even _cordial _toward her involved his mother nearby telling him to be nice and threatening him with one thing or another if he started slipping into his naturally jerky ways. That was back when his mother was still naïve enough not to realize that he was already a bully and on his way to being a future man-whore. She doesn't live in that blissful ignorance anymore, but she also never forces him into playing nice now, either.

But people grow up, people change. People get their best friend's girlfriend pregnant, and people make out with girls they've despised their entire lives. That's life, she supposes. Or at least it's _her _life. She's beginning to think it's as abnormal as it is destined, but she's never been one to wax philosophically about life and its meanings.

"So. Got any plans for break?" He doesn't even look at her, just plays with the lid of the salt shaker and taps out some beat she can't recognize.

A month ago, her plans involved spending every possible moment with Finn and losing her virginity. She really had it planned out. To the day. The past few weeks, her plans have involved doing whatever necessary to get him back. Somehow, that always comes down to losing her virginity as well. She's pretty sure that should horrify her more than it actually does. It's clear to her now that Finn responds to sexual offers the same way every other teenage boy does. If she hadn't held out for so long, he might have been more willing to forgive her. But since he's already told her she's a prude, and used that exact term, she's not shocked that he isn't willing to take her back and go back to waiting. Not when Santana is there- ready and willing.

"Are you dating Santana?"

He looks up from the salt shaker, probably confused as to why she answered a question about Christmas vacation with a question about his personal life. He looks at her weirdly and raises one eyebrow. "Uh, no... Why?"

"She said you were." Rachel knows she should just be quiet, but her mouth oftentimes runs away with itself.

"When?"

It's Rachel's turn to shrug. "I don't know. Awhile ago." She shouldn't have been so rude to Santana that day. Maybe she wouldn't have been put on her list. Rachel still doesn't even know what list that is, but she's willing to assume to that the title is something along the lines of _Lives to Destroy Today. _

"She lied."

And that's that. Rachel doesn't know if that's true. She doesn't know if Santana actually _lied _or if Puck lied _to _Santana. Or if Santana and Puck just have different definitions of dating. She guesses it doesn't really matter. They've both ruined her life on varying levels, so funny how she only hates one.

"Is she dating Finn?" This is not a question she should ask. It's not even a question she wants to know the answer to. She's ninety-nine percent sure that the answer is no, but even the smallest chance that it might be true would crush her. She knows she couldn't handle it.

"Santana?" He almost smiles. "And Finn? Are you fucking serious?"

Rachel hates that he seems so amused. She has a feeling he's making fun of her, and even though that certainly would be nothing new, she still doesn't appreciate it. "They've been together before," she points out, more in defense of her question than anything else.

"She _fucked _him," he says slowly like she's mentally-challenged or possibly three. "She would never _date _him._"_

Rachel doesn't necessarily believe that. She thinks Santana would do anything if she thought someone else would suffer for it. And since Rachel herself knows that she would _die- _not literally but emotionally- she's sure that Santana knows it, too. She can think of several reasons actually why Santana would date Finn. Besides torturing her, there's the social status that supposedly comes with dating the star quarterback (though Rachel never particularly benefited), and then, more importantly, there's Quinn. And Rachel knows that Santana would do _anything _if she thought it might get to Quinn on any level. And not that it necessarily would, but there's always a chance.

She doesn't say any of this. She doesn't get the chance because their names are called, and she starts to slide out of the booth to get her tray. Puck, though, is hit with some sudden bone of decency (or something) because he stops her and tells her he'll get it. She waits as he goes and gets their food and then stops for some napkins and condiments before sitting back down.

She's not hungry. She doesn't want the sandwich that's pushed in front of her, but she pinches off a few bites and tries to force them down anyway. Puck immediately starts scarfing his down in a way that's disgusting even for a seventeen year old boy. He eats the same way Finn does. It bugs her because she doesn't want them to be anything alike.

More than anything, she wishes she could stop being obsessed. She wants to accept their breakup like a respectable woman- one who doesn't fall apart and become sad and desperate and pathetic after being dumped. Not too long ago, she considered herself to be a strong, independent woman. Then she became _Finn's Girlfriend_, and now she's not sure she remembers _how _to be independent. In a way, she hates him for doing that to her. She hates him for making it soeasy to fall in love, and she hates him for turning her into someone's girlfriend when she used to actually be _someone. _Mostly she hates him for lying when he said he'd never break up with her.

"Fuck, are you about to start _crying?"_ Puck's question knocks her out of her depressive thoughts, and she notices the wetness in her eyes for the first time.

"No," she says quickly, blinking several times to ensure that it's the truth. She distracts herself by drinking nearly half her water.

"What the hell's wrong with you anyway?" He doesn't sound like he genuinely cares, and he _definitely _doesn't sound friendly. She doesn't answer, but he seems to deduce anyway. "Dude, Finn is going to take you back. Just give him some time to be a fucking little girl, and then you guys can go back to your little fantasy world."

She wonders if he's forgotten about his vow of being nice to Jews because he certainly doesn't sound nice _now. _She's not sure he really sounds _mean, _but he sounds irritated maybe. She thinks it's ironic that he feels the right to pass any sort of judgment on the situation considering the fact that he played his own part in it.

Even as she thinks it, she knows that's not really true.

_She _kissed _him. _

He was trying to be nice that day. His vow of Jew niceness was still fresh, and he was being uncharacteristically friendly and doing his best to cheer her up. That involved calling both Finn and Santana a variety of unflattering names. He was joking (most of the time), but it sort of worked, and she smiled and even laughed a few times. They went back to her house and upstairs because he said something about rehearsing, and she was stupid enough to think that would actually happen.

But she should have known. She's never been in her room alone with Noah Puckerman and _not _ended up kissing him or coming dangerously close.

She started it that day. She's not sure why. At the time, it felt like the most obvious and easiest form of revenge. Perfect really. Puck was a way to get back at both Finn _and _Santana. So it just seemed natural. She went for it, kissed him, and he kissed her back. And then they were making out on her bed, and all those thoughts about her virginity were rolling around in her head, and she seriously thought about just doing it. If Finn could give his up so easily, she should be able to do the same thing. If sex wasn't such a big deal, she might not hurt as badly as she did. But they never got to that point. Puck stopped, said something about betraying Finn, and left.

And Rachel really realized as she heard his car pulling away that she'd just done the worst thing. _Ever._

So she stares at him, wondering why he's being so harsh, as he finishes off his sandwich and watches her right back. He's waiting for her to say something, but she doesn't know what he expects her to say.

"Why isn't he mad at you?" she asks quietly, hoping she doesn't sound nearly as pathetic as she feels. She just doesn't think it's fair that she's the only one being vilified when Santana _purposely _sabotaged their relationship and Puck once again ended up in Finn's girlfriend's bed. It's not right.

"I apologized." And he says it like it's the simplest thing in the world. Really, it makes Rachel even angrier.

"I told him I was sorry a thousand times!" She doesn't think she's even exaggerating.

"Whoa," he says, glancing around at the practically _empty _restaurant. "Maybe shut up a little bit unless you want the whole damn town knowing your business."

It's stupid because there's no one there, and Rachel scowls at him. "It's not fair." And she knows she sounds like a petulant child, she just doesn't care.

"I told you he'll get over it." Puck rolls his eyes. "And then you can have Prince Charming or whatever the hell bullshit he is. Or you want him to be."

"I don't want to have this conversation with you." She says it suddenly and out of nowhere, surprising even herself. Puck narrows his eyes at her for a second, and then he rolls them again.

"Whatever. You're the one who brought it up."

"It's not right that he just forgives you and says he can't even stand to _look _at me." So much for not wanting to have the conversation. Sometimes she hates her total inability to just _shut the hell up._

"He fucking thinks you broke his heart or something. Jesus, Rachel, who gives a shit? He's just being an idiot, but he'll get over it. He gets over everything."

And then she says something else she doesn't expect to hear out of her own mouth. "I hate him."

And Puck, because he's an idiotic _asshole, _laughs. "No, you don't."

And he's right. She doesn't. She doesn't at _all. _She just hates the way she loves him, and that's the worst kind of hate. "He makes me act like an idiot."

"You make yourself act like an idiot."

She's wrong, her hate is definitely misplaced. She glares across the table and debates telling him just how stupid his Mohawk looks, but then she thinks she might slip up and keep going and end up telling him how nice his eyes are.

He grabs some of her chips without asking. "If you stopped being so desperate for something you've already fucking _got, _you might be able to stop acting so damn crazy."

She wants to snap at him that she's not crazy, but there's no point. And honestly, she thinks at this point that she might actually _be _crazy. She wonders why he thinks it's okay to be so rude and blunt with her, and then she wonders if she'd want him to be any other way. Their relationship is bizarre on many levels. His blatant honesty is the one thing that makes it stable.

"I shouldn't have kissed you," she says quietly, dropping her eyes away for a second because she's embarrassed and uncomfortable.

"Probably not," he agrees. Then he adds, "But if I had a dollar for every girl I shouldn't have kissed, I'd fucking be Bill Gates."

"This is different." She still keeps her voice low, but she looks back up because she wants to see his reaction. She won't put it into words, but he should know what she means. _They're _different. And that makes it doubly unfair where Finn's concerned.

"Yeah." And that's all he says.

She _must _be crazy because, for a second, she thinks about asking him if he wants to go to her house and hang out. She doesn't, of course, because him being in her house has never really been a good thing. Not for the logical side of herself anyway. And that's the side she tries to rely on most of the time.

They get up to leave and throw away their trash. They head for the parking lot, and he holds the door open for her so that she can leave first.

She doesn't know whether that makes her feel better or worse.

… … …

A/N: Poor, confused Rachel. Thanks for reading, reviews are awesome as always!


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